Poetry: Devil hunter extraordinaire
by veronca
Summary: Dante, Trish, Lucia, Vergil, Lady, and short stories. A compilation of odd poems & side stories. Added Lady poem after DMC3.
1. Dante poem and story

**Poetry for Dante, Devil hunter extraordinaire**

Four horsemen come riding in,

Deadly messages they bring all in the name of sin

Can this be a nuclear bomb?

Wasting in some atomic tomb

Where dead men rise at second speed

Dante in black and red, velvet and leather indeed

In the high winds above, floating with dark wings

With a grin on his lips, sharp blue eyes that sting

The first horse rider descends bringing

Famine and fatigue, a clash of swords ringing

Singing high pitched tones that glide through wet sands

Anyone can see he merely isn't some man

Two pistols, black against white, come o'come

On his soulless face, Dante blasts through

Turning to see the second on foot, it shall be done.

Sneering within his cowls face, the rider who shuns

Purity and Sanity, names his price, calls on the hunter

Silent and gray, Dante stands his ground and plunders

Slicing two sides of this riders cloak, recalling no blood

To disgrace on his mother's holy ground

Two down, Two to go, and everything floods

Human tears rising as Neptune opens the watery gates

Etching the sky for the expectant visitor of fate

This rider has no name, no meaning, for he has no soul

Bringing death and war, cheap thrills so foul

Death bringer come and tastes the blade

In Dante's strong hands, gripped in steel and strength

A dance with the demon in the pale light of the moon

Can you notice the trace of a smile along the length?

Of a mouth so cruel and beautiful, mortal women croon

The last apocalyptic treat waits out in the black sun

Dried up land, so scorched with heat and none could run

Dante casually walked, as if no pain could touch

So quick on the balls of his feet, battles cry so deep

Flying above the clouds in his journey so fleet

The span of his great wings sharp as knives

And so many lives

So many of us watch from below

With bated breath and in awe, to witness a show

When the last horseman crashed in that crimson sky

Darkness blanketed the ocean of open display

Has God in his holy embrace given the hunter a try?

Another chance, another day, to fly

The smolder clears to unwrap a present

Shiny white in the wind, Dante's signature hair

Red and black, leather and velvet smooth prevents

Fire and ash to stain his skin so tan and fair

Lovely, so lovely, a god has gained no resent

A devil hunter gains another prospect

And earns our heavenly respect

FINIS

**

* * *

**

A small story afterward:

Dante walked into the room, jumped on the couch and landed there with his two booted feet atop the arms, "whew, I'm dead tired!" then he makes a slumping motion with his shoulders

Trish eyed him with a knowing look, she gave him one of her half smiles, full lips curved upward, "Why? What'd you do?"

He snorted, "I just fought the four horsemen!" there was a notable pride in his voice, then wipes off his forehead with the back of his hand.

"What? You mean…..," Trish points to the untouched bible on the bookshelf.

Dante winked at her, "Yep. From that one."

He nodded then jumps up, goes over to this huge desk full of unchecked bills, and landed on his favorite chair, lifting his booted foot atop the desk, folds his hands and gives Trish a look of lazy boredom.

The blonde shifted her long hair over the side of her shoulder, giving Dante a come-hither-me look, "Well, well, so Sparda's son finally gets to meet the four horsemen from the revelation. Aren't you special?"

Dante felt a bit frisky, "I'll show you special", winked at her again.

"Eh, yeah right. Tell me, were they difficult?"

She leaning against his desk, she lowers her sunglasses, smiling blue eyes appreciating the devil hunter.

He chuckled, "Nah, t'weren't nothing. Just a few cuts, slashes, and my babies here, shows ebony and ivory, patting them for good measure to help me in my time of need."

Trish gave a low whistle, "Nice." She nods her head.

The demon hunter looks at her in curiosity, "Are you making fun of me?"

"Who me?" She gives an innocent look, shaking the blond tresses around her, "Never."

"Well you know I really DID beat them! I kicked them out of the pages of the bible, **_if _**you know what I mean."

"Literally? Or Literary? Trish gave a twinkling laugh.

"Aw come on, Trish. That ain't fair. If I weren't so tired right now, I'd…."

Trish leaned closer, and puts a finger on his lips to silence him, "Shhhhh."

"…………………….."


	2. Melody for Beatrice

A melody for Beatrice

As he turns to see the lack of lines

Without any poise of shine

She brings to him a song of dreams

And puts his mind at ease so it seems

Satisfying a blood thirst for killing

Demons that run rampant in a thrilling

Tale of discarding ghosts, witches, and insanity

Sparda in a lustrous calamity

O'look upon his face, a devil's only disgrace

Is his weakness for salvations only grace

A young woman with pale skin, translucent

In the open light of daybreak, a voice so dulcet

She gives to him sweet honesty

No apology needed in all discovery

Black leather serving as second skin

The traces of her face so thin

Lack of lines

Without shine

Powdered in the room behind his desk

An air of ancient electricity between them

A taste here and there, do you need to ask?

Password needed to begin anew

Missions accomplished in the rains dew

Words and religion does not compute

Their battles end up in silent dispute

Lean long legs she has

So achingly sexy does she have to be so crass?

A little more fight, a little more spark

To satisfy the bullseyes mark

Straight into the perpetrators heart

So show him how to use it, Beatrice

She thinks, she acts and begins to count thrice

O'baby he cries, as he pumps two more rounds

into deadly foes to be found

Dark sunglasses against pale blond hair so long

And she doesn't even wear a thong

Thank god for miracles, cried Dante.

My mother in her prime would scold me thus,

For such attire seemed unfit.

Black leather, Black wear, was it so

Thus unseemly for the Prince of Darkness

To dress his mother's lovely image so unfairly?

Traces a line along her face

Lack of lines

Without any shine

His light fingers touch the soft spot of lips

Heat and fire between the two

Ebony and Ivory do crazy flips

In the hardness of his hands

Wielding Alastor and Force edge

A wet dream to a demons imagined land

Words of wisdom have no meaning

In the light of day

Have they nothing to say?

Traces along her celebrated face

Nothing in the way of lines

Without a decent shine

Without a doubt she comes to him

Every day when dusk thins

Let me show you how baby, he chokes

Flipping his mighty sword out in multiple strokes

O'come on this is her borrowed devil hunter

The lines on her face were none

Her hips descending in the open thunder

Giving her demon a run for his money

Satisfaction sounds so funny

To describe the plain and simple truth

Could he ever be so uncouth?

O'never never she sighs

A melody for Trish, Singing like Alastors sparks

Blue-white heat in the glowing dark

And the traces along her face

made by his fingers

Refining no disgrace

Her lack of lines

A kiss on Beatrice without any shine

* * *

The sounds of scribbling could be heard, shattering Dante's dream, waking to see Lady sitting at the small desk by their window, making those scribbling noises.

"Lady" Dante groans and is half awake now, his eyes straining to open and attempts to wipe the sleep off his eyes.

"Hmmm..yeah?" Lady continues to scribble.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Writing a poem."

"Huh?" fully awake now, he sits up on the bed, naked, the blanket covering his most sensitive parts.

Walking over to his lover, he looks over her shoulder to read. "A poem….eh, hmm, a little strange and naughty even."

"Stop reading it, I'm not done!" Lady smacks her hand down the piece of paper she was working on, making a loud noise, startling Dante a pace back.

"Okay okay, geez, so sensitive! But come on, Lady, its 5am. I still have a couple hours before I wake again. Come back to bed, hmmm?" coaxing her with a murmur against her Ebony hair, he kisses her neck for more persuasion, "I'll make it worth your while"

"What? You'll let me choose the next set of demons we fight? I get first dibs?" Lady raises an eyebrow.

"Something better" Dante raises both eyebrows and grins.

"I doubt it." Her eyes half closes, and then walks as if she were in a dream trance towards the bed leaving her pages of half written poetry lying atop the desk, the wind picking up from the window to blow them into the chilly atmosphere outside, towards the morning sky.

The last bits of ink plastered on the Ivory sheet, with words of love and the future uncertain…


	3. Lucia

**Lucia**

Wearing only weapons sharpened by the light

Her hair flaming in the color of alizarin sight

A strike by midnight she learns to hear

Knowing others less fortunate would fear

O' lord have mercy upon their souls

As she comes by the alleys and toils

Speaking in foreign tongues she understands

Only she can spread her wings on that stand

White and ever free, caressing in the debris

Her technique and skill are never for free

But so she meets the hunter at his place

Expecting more than just a man misplaced

A seeker, a demon she learns by name

Sparda in the condition of the white haired

And he has got them all running scared

Running to and fro, no more monsters to forgo

O'lord have mercy on their everlasting souls

Like snakes in the throngs of their coils

Liberating her sharp tools and ready to go

She catches the hunter at his pace

Again, they meet in order to replace

Of irony and danger

Of sweet promised sorrows

But never a stranger

This time she wants to borrow

The devil's own

The man disowned

O' yes, call upon your lord and have mercy

Lucia comes from the sky

Lucia takes no form of lies

Stabbing into the ground

Spikes and wicked sharp

They couldn't begin to frown

They'll be no sound of a harp

In the heavens that she came

O' lord have mercy,

She has a name

And they crowned her Saint,

St. Lucia,

A warrior woman without taint

Finis


	4. Vergil: little boy blue

A/N: I was visiting one of the art museums and thought of this for Vergil. There is a painting of a little boy blue. A child wearing satin blue clothing. It's really nice too.

* * *

**Vergil: Little boy blue**

* * *

Trained at an early age

Making up for lost time in a moments rage

He breaks not a sweat upon hells open ground

And he was no where to be found

…and so they try and break him

Disappearing late one evening frost

Along with a mothers loving cost

Separating two silver boys at an early age

Oh what can evil be devising at this stage?

His name belongs to Sparda's line

So trained is he at swordsmanship so refined

Not one drop of demons blood around

And he makes his way upon that open ground

Upon hells open fiery lounge

Stimulating his technique, refining his physique

His name is Vergil and there is no mystique

To show the demons among his race

Imagining not a moments fright to erase

Cocky and self assured he be

All the hells monsters have let him be

To a god in the name of Mundus so powerful

He was serving and lies so full

Side by side with Phantom

Tolerating presence that none could fathom

Treading on hells most foul ground

They make way for the demon whose blood

Could not be found

...Still they try and break him

His face a mask of sin

And beauteous silver metal despair

An unquestionable lair

No longer a boy so blue

Or so they thought him as was his due

Has spent his years refining

To find a way back home

Has he heard Mundus designing

To break the barrier of hells dome?

One day returning to get back home

Honed in the art of fighting

His blue eyes alighting

Nightmare and Griffin scorn this dark knight

Slowly burning in their hatred blight

...They were not the first to try and break him

Vergil delivered unto the worlds throes

And those who hear his name no longer know

The boy with silver gilded hair,

Slicked back against his adversaries and foes

In a realm of demons that do not dare

To whisper his name in the darkness

Of hells open brackish ground

Not one soulless creature makes a sound

As Vergil walks into the black light of day

To make one soul pay

Eyes white heat blue in that back drop

Armored heavily against the strain of his job

And no one dares to make whispers

On hells open fiery ground

His new name in the birth of a shroud

Nelo Angelo replaced a boy so blue

His mother never had a clue

...and still they try and break him

End


	5. Devils never cry

A/N: "Breathless, careless, transcendent into a world of imaginative discoveries and she was there, lifeless like a rag doll yet transparent as a bittersweet memory of my yesteryear.

Oh aching in the moonless wonderment of her sweet downy skin, she entrances, kisses me in the night of starless sky. What an irony that she encompasses and forgives. Only loves sorrow can wound me without dishonesty."

by myself. lol

* * *

Dante sits there, a somber figure holding a bottle of Jack Daniels. Lucia hesitates, wavering between the decision to come up to him or leave him to his melancholy trance.

The shadows there reflect the slumping figure with the light of a silver glint just barely notable in the darkness of their contiguous surrounding.

The sound of footsteps, the steady beat of her boots making a rhythmic sound and the demon hunter barely moves, he knows who is behind him and he lifts the bottle to his lips.

"Dante"

"Hmm."

Lucia comes up before him. Her hair, red and bright held up in a pony tail, giving her a look of a younger more innocent woman. She closes her eyes then breathes.

"There was nothing you can do."

"Ah hell, Lucia. I don't need your needy talks or your damn cheer up speeches right now. I just want to……drink and yeah, think." He whispers the last word. They seem to lift up into the airless sky.

"Selfish son of a bitch" she whispers in slow anger.

"What?" his head jerks up. "Look who's calling who selfish." He chuckles, and gives her a toast, lifting up his bottle in a gesture of acknowledgement.

Lucia takes out one of her knives, quick and efficient, the weapon lands effortless between his legs, making a noisy thump. Dante doesn't even make a move, his eyes flash, the deadliness of his teal gaze bore into hers.

In a harsh whisper, he grates, "Is there something else I can do for you?"

"This is NOT the demon hunter I met and have come to know!" her face precariously close to his, "Look at you! Do you want her to see you like this? Do you? Do YOU?"

They perilously stare at another, Dante feeling the sting of her words, and succumbing to the delicious oblivion of the spirits that heal his soul in a bottle.

His hands start to shake, feeling the effects of his failure and hating disappointments.

"Lucia, just leave me alone." Then with a kinder voice, "please."

"Fine."

Listening to the last of her footsteps, the closing of the door, the click, the fading of her departure was he finally able to lift his head and sigh.

"Damn. Women."

The phone rings. He listens to the number of times it rings……5, 6, and 7, click.

He didn't even bother to leave the answering machine on.

Lifting the rest of the contents of the bottle to his lips, he empties the last drop, feeling the sick harsh taste going down his throat. The burning sensation making his eyes blink, and the memories came back like a flooding flash, so close, oh god, if there ever was one, god, god, Trish…..?

The building blew up, like sky rockets in a combustive combination of myriad colors, flashing into the morning light, darkening the skies, a doomsday that ended suddenly.

His throat hurting, he swallows, closes his eyes, rubs them with his fist, wiping away any trace of tear, devils never cry, yeah, that's what I told her.

The knock on the door startles his reverie.

Oh go away.

The knock is persistent.

Lucia has the key to the place so it's certainly not her. Some sucker comes to make a call and perhaps some action will soothe his demon soul. His mortal side, his mothers, the part that made him so human, made him weak as well.

Dante strides to the door, the guns at his hips, his jacket hung carelessly over a chair and he grabs it on the way, and the steadfast knocking continues.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming, hold your horses."

He opens the door in a rapid motion, the irritation in his expression changes as he looks at the young woman before him.

"Mister Sparda?"

She was the vision of the same young woman in his poster.

But……better.

Glancing down at her snug clothing, a long coat to ward off the incoming autumn wind, her hair a soft mahogany brown, and eyes that can drown you like a siren calling out to a voyage in a homers odyssey, he liked what he saw. She let herself in, passing me in the tight doorway, their eyes never leaving one another.

"I need your help." She simply said.

Nothing like a new mission to breathe new blood into your veins and Dante could feel a new kind of rush bleed into his soul, the ache burning in his throat lingers. He swallows and he smiles at her. Yeah, devils may cry, but not tonight.

His guns, quivering for the taste of a firing new adventure, throbbing for a new discovery, and eliminating more demons into hell, he takes up her offer.

Time to go to work, guys, Dante thinks as he taps his babies.

The door closes leaving an empty room, the display of various trophies still mounted all around, some old, some new. His desk, undone, reveals atop a picture; framed in loving care, his mother Eva smiling back and a familiar music drifts slowly in.

Devils never cry, Dante Sparda.

finis


	6. Love letter for Lady and extra poem

A/N: This beautiful poetic-letter was originally meant for me from a friend, but since it was so beautiful, so touching, I created it for Lady and Dante, because I wondered if..if Dante were to have written something like this to Lady? When she decided to leave?

* * *

_Lady,_

_Oh, before you leave I promised you_

_some questions that you can answer at your leisure._

_Or not at all._

_I've always thought that questions left unanswered_

_can be so poignant. Or the questions are so telling._

_I also wanted to note, in case I don't get the chance to_

_in the future, how wonderfully seductive a thinker and person_

_you can be. Don't think for a second that I haven't noticed_

_and enjoyed it._

_I've enjoyed your wit, enjoyed flirting with you_

_if but only in words alone._

_Let no daggers belay my words and no sword_

_shall pierce your psyche._

_No lies from my tongue shall slip._

_Would my words be as deliciously sweet as you?_

_When you were young, what did you want to be?_

_What did you think the first time you saw yourself in a mirror?_

_Do you believe in destiny or freewill?_

_But have you ever experienced precognition?_

_Is Chance and Coincidence reason enough why people meet or_

_where we come from and experience the things we individually do?_

_Or do you believe in angelic messengers?_

_Messengers that bring you signs meant to guide you_

_should you perceive and receive those signs..._

_messengers that may inhabit a person for a second_

_to share word of advice or warning,_

_or inhabit a person entirely for all time._

_Is that possible?_

_What was your first memory of?_

_Shall I share mine?_

_I was only crawling, crawling upon the living room_

_carpet. When I spotted a spot of sunlight brightly dwelling upon._

_I stared at that spot of sunlight and was transported_

_in thought: I saw me brother. We_

_were in school (we actually were). I saw the_

_details of the school, the desk, the clock upon the wall,_

_the blackboard, the green color and westwardly orientation_

_of the school itself._

_Remotely I viewed my brother in one room, me in another._

_And when I was old enough to go to school myself,_

_I knew exactly were everything was._

_Have you noticed the mystical direction of these questions ?_

_Ok,I'll be more practical._

_What's your favorite color?_

_What's your favorite Ice Cream flavor?_

_What's your favorite clothing material?_

_What's your favorite animal?_

_What's your favorite song?_

_What's your favorite author?_

_What's your favorite movie?_

_What's your favorite food?_

_What's your favorite sexual position?_

_What's your shoe size?_

_Would you rather I ask more mystical question instead?_

_If you could be any person, present or past, Who ?_

_If there was anywhere in the world you would like to be most, Where?_

_If you could travel to, or live in any era in time, When ?_

_If you could vanquish one sport forever from the face of the earth, Which ?_

_Do you enjoy my company? Why ?_

_If I asked you to leave with me and everything you've known and come with me, would you? How?_

_What is the wonder of the 7 Wonders of the World?_

_What time is when? What place is where? What person is who?_

_What reason is why? What manner is how? What choice is which or whether?_

_If an attractive man were to stare at you, not rudely_

_or intrusively, but with a kind of longing, a desire burning..._

_what do you think that man is thinking?_

_What is what?_

_Do you know?_

_Is it curiosity, the seeking of knowledge, the desire to understand_

_and the need to have that desire fulfilled?_

_Is it just the asking of a questions?_

_Have you ever noticed that some questions answer themselves?_

_Have I made you feel wanted as a woman, or liked as friend, or_

_respected as an equal, or admired as a person?_

_I wish you well,Lady ...Dante Sparda_

* * *

**LADY AKA MARY**

She fell from the sky; head first and red boots enclosed around her legs.

Her hair; black as ebony, she wore as short as the demon she swore she'd kill.

With her Kalina Ann and the pistols she owns, not a single demon could face another day.

From her eyes; violet hues of red and blue combined, the same coloring as the twin brothers opposing clothes.

They sparkle with hate and fury, to drive the demons away from her father.

Only to find that demon worse than any has become the man who calls himself her kin.

She fell from the sky; head first and red boots, fighting against gravity.

Her hair a contrast to her pale skin; scarred slightly in places where bottom feeder demons might have swung too close.

Her nose straight and small; a line of scar evident from her past, reminding us of her humanity,

She is Lady, whom the devil from the ground calls.

She is the woman that shot him in the head, made him question his family and honor.

The girl whose eyes sparkled with anger and determination; daring the demon to move out of the way,

She fell from the sky; head first and red boots last, wrapped now in the hands of a hunter; Dante.

He told her this is his kind of rain.

And devils may cry in the end.


End file.
